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<title>The Prime and the Hitchhiker by Delirious21</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024045">The Prime and the Hitchhiker</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious21/pseuds/Delirious21'>Delirious21</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Holoforms (Transformers), Relaxing, backroads, taking a drive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious21/pseuds/Delirious21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus shares peace with a stranger who needs a lift. (He makes good use of his holoform, although it's not directly mentioned.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

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<a name="section0001"><h2>The Prime and the Hitchhiker</h2></a>
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  <span>This is what he needed, the slow roll of tires on a country road, fields on all sides, earthly pastels in the rearview, colors of a life foreign to him. It was wonderful, and the woman in the passenger seat, tapping her foot to no particular beat, seemed to feel it too. She stared out the window, arm waving in the breeze, head tilted back, not bothering to make idle conversation. This was all they needed. He and a stranger, a unity of being and souls, her dusty duffle bag on his floorboards, the smell of sweat and diesel and fresh-cut wheat filling their heads. The sun beat down on them, reflecting off his lackluster finish and tangling in the wind-whipped mess of her loose, golden locks. They drove for an hour like this, free and together even in their strangeness. He dropped her off at a quaint mining town and the ride home, alone, didn’t feel near the same. </span>
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